


First Time For Everything

by FictionAddictions23



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Awkward Tension, Demisexuality, Emotions, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, M/M, Romance, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionAddictions23/pseuds/FictionAddictions23
Summary: When Sanji witnesses Zoro kissing a strange man, the Straw Hat cook is forced to come to terms with his feelings after the fact. Why does he even care what that stupid marimo-swordsman does? More importantly, why can't he stop thinking about being in that man's place?





	First Time For Everything

The cook’s lit cigarette dropped from his mouth. It snuffed itself out in the dirt below his feet, which were rooted firmly in place due to the shock of finding the Straw Hat’s swordsman locking lips with the man who he’d just left the bar with. Sanji happened to have been walking on the same street where his crewmate had chosen to stop in for a drink, and it was simply a coincidence that he’d seen Zoro exiting the tavern—how could he _not_ have noticed the swordsman’s obnoxiously green hair?

It had been a relatively boring night for the cook since he’d spent the past few hours restocking supplies at the market while the log pose was setting. There was an unfortunate lack of women for him to flatter because of the island’s strange culture, which insisted that the females return to their homes before dark. On his way back to the Merry, he’d passed the bar just in time to see a certain green-haired swordsman leaving with one of the villagers.

The two men appeared quite chummy, causing Sanji to pause in curious surprise because it was unusual for Zoro to be so friendly with a stranger in a new place. Although, the cook reasoned that it was possible the swordsman knew the guy from before he’d joined the crew—either that, or he was simply drunk enough to become friends with anyone who didn’t pick a fight with him.

The blond watched for a moment as his crewmate wandered along the street beside the other man, until he lost sight of them when they suddenly ducked into a nearby alley. He furrowed his curly eyebrows in slight annoyance—leave it to Zoro to get drunk and disappear with a stranger in the middle of the night when he obviously wouldn’t be able to find his way back to the ship later.

Where the hell _was_ he going anyway?

Sanji shrugged, deciding that he didn’t care while simultaneously resolving to follow the marimo bastard before he got his ass hopelessly lost, which would mean that the crew would have to waste time hunting him down before setting sail in the morning. The cook pulled his package of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and lit up before crossing the street and turning down the same alley that he’d seen the two men entering.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the sudden dimness, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw that Zoro had pinned the stranger bodily against a brick wall. Sanji’s immediate thought was that his crewmate must have been attacked and was about to kick the guy’s ass, which prompted his second thought that there was no way someone that scrawny could get the jump on the Straw Hat’s swordsman. There was a five second delay in which he moved towards them, planning to make fun of the swordsman for letting his guard down, before his brain caught up to what his eyes were actually seeing, and he realized that he wasn’t looking at a fight…

Or at least, not a fight between enemies. There was certainly _some_ sort of fight happening, but it looked more like a fight over who could shove their tongue farthest down the other’s throat than anything that might warrant his intervention. His cigarette fell into the dirt, and Sanji’s thoughts scrambled as he tried to make sense of the scene because it was clear from their positions that Zoro had not been accosted by some sleazy bargoer and was actively participating in the kissing.

“Wha—what the hell are you doing?!” he asked in bewilderment. If his mind hadn’t been scrambled then he might have realized that it would’ve been best to quietly turn around and leave them to their business, but his shock had overridden his sense of propriety and caused the question to slip out before he could think it through.       

The two men broke apart, turning to face the interruption with contrasting expressions—Zoro immediately recognized the cook’s voice and was visibly startled by his presence, his eyes widening in slight panic as he automatically locked gazes with Sanji, while the other man seemed less surprised to have been walked in on in a public alleyway and shot the cook a sheepish grin that was lacking any real embarrassment.

“Shit—sorry, man. I swear we were planning to get a room, but we didn’t quite make it that far,” the stranger told him good-naturedly, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. Still, his smile appeared genuine as he turned his attention back to Zoro and gestured for them to keep walking. “Come on, it’s not far. Let’s get going before we get carried away again,” he said coyly.

Sanji stared at the man as he began a slow stroll down the alley, still slightly shell-shocked by what he’d seen, until Zoro broke his trance with a nonchalant, “Later, Cook.” The two pirates briefly met each other’s eyes before the swordsman turned away, and Sanji was surprised to see that Zoro had already collected himself and appeared completely unaffected by their unexpected meeting. He even lifted his hand in a casual wave before shoving it into his pocket and hurrying to catch up to the other man.

“Wait, _that_ guy is the cook on your crew?” Sanji heard the stranger asking.

“Yeah. He has a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and pissing me off,” Zoro explained drawlingly.

“Well, he can come to _my_ place anytime—he’s _gorgeous,_ ” the guy replied unabashedly.

“Tch. I’ll pass along the invitation. You’d have to grow tits before he’d give you the time of day, though.”

“Damn. Why do the hot, straight ones always look gay?” the man lamented with a pout. His comment seemed to amuse the swordsman greatly, who let out a hearty laugh as they disappeared around the corner without a backwards glance.

Sanji was too caught up in the aftermath of his confusion, as well as his unexpected anger towards the strange man, to move from where he was frozen in place. He eventually shook himself out of it and turned on his heel, silently fuming all the way back to the ship and grumbling about stupid marimos and annoying gays. _What the hell? Aren’t gay people supposed to challenge stereotypes instead of perpetuating them?!_ Sanji thought angrily. _Who does that asshole think he is—saying I look gay…What does that even mean?!_       

His thoughts ran wild when he realized that Zoro likely wouldn’t be returning to the ship until morning—if the idiot could even find his way back. The cook was too wired to sleep, so he offered to take Robin’s nightwatch and spent the rest of the night fluctuating between inexplicable anger, which he quickly attributed to the man’s rude comment about his appearance (rather than thinking too deeply on it), reluctant curiosity about his crewmate’s apparent interest in men, and complete denial that he cared about it at all.

His mind continuously plagued him with questions, each more ignorant than the last. Had the swordsman and that man left the bar with the specific intent of having sex? Why did that seem surprising when the cook had done it himself with plenty of women in the past? Was he surprised because it was _Zoro_ of all people? Was Zoro gay? How come Sanji couldn’t remember a single time that his crewmate had shown a sexual interest in women, let alone men? And if he _was_ gay then how the hell hadn’t Sanji noticed before?

“Fuck—it shouldn’t even _matter!_ ” he scolded himself from his position in the crow’s nest. “It’s none of my business, so why the hell am I obsessing over it?” 

The worst part of his musings was that he wasn’t even sure what it was about the situation that interested him so much. Sanji wasn’t a hypocrite—he didn’t care about the fact that the swordsman had sought out a one-night-stand, and although he’d never personally understood the appeal of his own sex, the cook wasn’t a homophobe. In fact, he encouraged the expression of love between people, regardless of their gender or sexual orientation. The only explanation he could come up with was that the stoic and self-disciplined swordsman had finally proven himself to be capable of normal human emotion…or at least, normal human desire—he _was_ nineteen after all, so it had always baffled the cook that Zoro never talked about sex the way that most guys would during “locker room talk” so to speak.

That made sense. Sanji had just been surprised to find his highly reserved crewmate in the midst of unbridled passion, and now he was conflicted about whether or not he should acknowledge what he’d seen when he wasn’t even sure if Zoro would want him to. Perhaps there was a reason that the swordsman had been so unresponsive to the topic—maybe he was embarrassed, although it seemed out of character for Zoro to worry about what other people thought of his choices, or perhaps he was just naturally secretive and reluctant to share certain aspects of his personal life.

Whatever the reason, the cook figured that it would be easiest to just wait and see if Zoro chose to address it himself. Content with that decision, he occupied himself with other thoughts for the rest of his watch and well into the morning breakfast preparations. Zoro didn’t show up for either breakfast or lunch, and Sanji didn’t see him until after his midday nap—the cook usually slept deeply after a night-watch, but he was so distracted that he awoke several times after very…concerning dreams.

Perhaps it was because he was in the middle of a dry spell, since they'd just docked after weeks of isolation on the ocean and months of eventful stops at islands that left him little time to properly relieve tension, but lately his sleep had become dominated by vivid wet dreams—all of which had begun to incorporate the green-haired swordsman. Even the dreams that weren’t particularly sexual featured Zoro in some way, and Sanji consistently awoke in the men’s dorm in desperate need of a cigarette and a quick wank.

Some of the dreams were indistinguishable from reality, depicting the crew’s usual antics on the Going Merry, but unlike in real life, Sanji’s focus was constantly drawn to Zoro—to the swordsman’s reactions and expressions, the hidden meaning behind his words, and the many ways in which he interacted with different members of the crew. His eyes were much more expressive in the dreams than the cook was used to, but they reflected the real Zoro’s feelings—or at least, as Sanji understood them after years of developing the silent communication they shared and his own speculation on the swordsman’s behaviour.

It was dreams like those that made the cook realize just how much he actually paid attention to the person who he constantly claimed to hate, while other dreams suggested that he didn’t hate Zoro at all; rather, he admired him for his skill on the battlefield, his ability to effortlessly balance selfless dedication to the crew with his own ambitions, and even his uncaring attitude, which (contrary to the cook’s constant insults and complaining) Sanji was secretly jealous of. The cook often wished that he were able to be more carefree without constantly worrying about posturing a perfect, gentlemanly appearance.

Then there were the awkward dreams that pandered to the romantic in him—they always seemed normal while he was having them, but then he would wake up and remember dreaming about relaxing with Zoro on a beach, sharing a hammock, or goofing off in the kitchen. They were often alone in those dreams, just spending time together—even fighting like they inevitably would no matter how well they learned to get along. Sanji was never able to forget the casual way that he and Zoro touched each other, as well as the more meaningful, deliberate touches that could only be the product of his fantasy. Whenever he woke up from one of these dreams, the comfortable interaction between him and Zoro, and the unconditional affection that had seemed so natural, would quickly lose its normalcy. That sense of loss stayed with him throughout the day, and the cook couldn’t help but wonder if the two of them would ever have anything between them besides the begrudging, obligatory comradery that was required as nakama.

The most frustrating dreams were the sexual ones. His stupid imagination had latched onto the ridiculous notion that just because Zoro had sex with men, Sanji could theoretically be one of them. Even if the cook had never felt an attraction to a man before, his subconscious apparently had no trouble considering the possibility, and Sanji’s perverted mind had gone ahead and utilized its incredible talent for creating sexual fantasies. Even so, there was only so much that he could imagine without any practical experience with men, and the lack of realism in his dreams only increased his waking desire to satisfy his curiosity.

It was fucking torture.

The dreams kept coming well after Zoro had returned from wherever he’d spent the night after leaving Sanji in the alleyway. The swordsman never mentioned their awkward meeting, acting as though nothing had changed, and it was driving the cook _crazy._ He couldn’t stop thinking about it and knew that his curiosity would soon get the better of him. It didn’t help that the marimo trained so often—in so little clothing—and ignored the cook while he was doing it. In fact, Sanji was sure he was being ignored on purpose because he and Zoro hadn’t had a good fight in days and had barely spoken a word to each other.

After a week passed, and they were out in the middle of the ocean again, Sanji finally decided to break the ice. He simply couldn’t stand the tension anymore and was sure that even some of the crew had noticed the lack of name-calling and banter between them. He waited until it was Zoro’s turn for nightwatch and the rest of the crew had gone to bed before pouring himself a glass of premium sake to calm his frayed nerves. Once he was sufficiently buzzed, he let his instincts guide him into a confrontation with the swordsman and made his way to the deck below the crow’s nest.

“Oi, marimo!” he called up, waiting patiently for Zoro to set down whatever ungodly heavy weight he was probably lifting and come to the open window. When the swordsman poked his head out, Sanji watched as his expression transitioned from irritated to instantly suspicious when he realized that the cook was holding up the bottle of sake in a friendly, inviting gesture.

“What are you gonna do with that much sake, Cook? You know you can’t hold your liquor,” he called down.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’m a lightweight—figured I’d share. Come down if you’re interested, because I’m not going anywhere near your sweat-soaked hovel,” Sanji explained, heading back into the galley.     

He ignored the anxious beating of his heart, which sped up the moment he heard his crewmate enter the kitchen behind him. The cook immediately retrieved another glass from the cupboard and set it on the table next to the bottle. He avoided looking at Zoro as the swordsman took a seat by lighting another cigarette and taking a few deep drags. Hopefully the nicotine, plus the alcohol in his system, would be enough to loosen him up so he could ask the questions he’d been holding in for the past week.

“Didn’t think you would actually come down,” he commented idly, sliding into a chair opposite the swordsman.

“Didn’t think you would actually share the booze. This is good stuff, so you must have a good reason for bribing me, right Cook?” Zoro hinted, twisting off the cap and ignoring the empty glass on the table in favour of taking a generous swig straight from the bottle.

Sanji rolled his eyes and took a delicate sip from his own glass. “It’s not a bribe,” he lied.

“Of course it is. You’ve barely spoken to me since the last island, and suddenly you’re sitting down for a friendly drink? Cut the crap. I know when something’s on your mind, so spill it.”

“ _I’ve_ barely spoken to you?” Sanji repeated in confusion. “I though you were avoiding _me_ , idiot-swordsman.”

Zoro paused at that, setting down the bottle as he let out a small chuckle. “Well, aren’t we a couple of schoolgirls. This is ridiculous. Let’s just decide whether we should talk it out or fight it out, because I actually sort of miss kicking your ass.”

“Tch. Like you could ever kick my ass—swinging your damn sticks around like a barbarian.”

“Those are fighting words, Cook. We doing this?” he asked eagerly.

Sanji glanced at his crewmate over the rim of his glass, finishing the last sip and immediately pouring himself another. He could feel the familiar sensation of warmth in his cheeks, thanks to his admittedly pathetic tolerance for alcohol, and was glad that it would act as a good cover for the slight blush at his next words.

He shook his head at Zoro’s challenge and said, “I actually _was_ bribing you. I wanted to talk, not fight.”

“Never would’ve guessed. Whatever—booze is booze. Get it over with,” Zoro said, helping himself to more of the sake.

“Why did you think I was avoiding you?” he asked the swordsman curiously.

“Isn’t it obvious? You were pretty shocked when you saw me with that guy in the alley, and you didn’t say a thing to me the next day. I thought that you might have a problem with it, so I waited to see if you were gonna talk shit, but you barely spoke to me all week. I kept my distance in case it made you uncomfortable—figured it would blow over eventually.”

“No, I don’t have a problem with it. I thought that I might have overstepped some sort of boundary and seen something you wanted to keep secret. When you didn’t bring it up afterwards, I assumed that you wanted me to keep my mouth shut about it.”

“Nah, I don’t care that you saw. It’s not even a secret, but I don’t exactly make a habit of sharing personal information for no reason, and most people never ask,” Zoro explained with a shrug.

“So, I know it’s obviously none of my business, but are you saying…I-I mean, are you…?”

“Gay?” Zoro supplied for him. “Yes, Cook. I would’ve thought that was obvious.”

“Well, I don’t know! The world isn’t as black and white as gay or straight, you know? I just wanted to make sure instead of making presumptions. It’s called being _courteous_ —not that you would know anything about that, asshole,” Sanji grumbled irritably.

“I’m sorry, you’re actually right for once. Now that you’ve got your answer, can I leave?”

“W-wait! That wasn’t all I wanted to talk about.”

“But I finished the sake,” Zoro complained, waving the empty bottle in front of the cook’s face.

“ _Fine!_ I hope you drink yourself to death!” he snapped, standing up to retrieve two more bottles from his personal pantry.

“I’m much more likely to die by the sword.”

“Well, it’s gonna be by my _foot_ in a minute,” he growled, sliding back into his seat.

“You’ve got my attention, Cook,” Zoro told him as he continued to drink.

Sanji took a few more drinks himself, trying to push past his reluctance to admit what he was so curious about. Getting drunk had definitely been the right choice, and it only took him a few more seconds to start the real conversation.

“How did you know?” he asked quietly, causing Zoro’s eyebrows to raise in surprise.

“How did I know that I was gay? I’ll give you three guesses,” he said wryly.

“But, like, when did you _first_ know? Why do you think you swing that way?”

“…You seriously want to know?” he asked suspiciously. Sanji just nodded and continued alternating between smoking and drinking to keep his restless hands moving. “I don’t remember the exact age, but I quickly figured out that sex with girls was boring—lacking something that I needed. Once I left my hometown to be a bounty hunter, well…let’s just say that there were ample opportunities to play the field. I thought maybe I just needed to meet different women, but it turned out that I didn’t have a problem with their personality but their anatomy.”

“So you’ve had sex with women then?”

“Sure. It wasn’t like it didn’t feel good, but it wasn’t enough. People just have different preferences—it’s a lot like food, Cook.”

“Do you think it’s ever too late to change? Or try something different, even if you’ve always been happy with what you had?” Sanji speculated.

Zoro’s eyes instantly narrowed at that, and he gave the blond a hard look. “What exactly are you suggesting? I’m not gonna change, if that’s what’s bothering you,” he said coldly.

“Tone down the menacing glare, will you? I’m not talking about you,” Sanji said, looking anywhere but at him.

Zoro instantly picked up on his avoidant behaviour and shot him a knowing smirk. “So…why _are_ you so curious about this? Has something _else_ been on your mind this week, pervert-cook?”

Sanji froze, his mind scrambling to explain himself without actually having to come out and say it. He settled for an obvious hint. “You never did pass along that guy’s invitation,” he said, feigning casualty.

Zoro’s eyebrows nearly touched his hairline at that, which was quite the feat considering how large his forehead was. “I didn’t think you’d be interested,” he said, unable to hide the blatant surprise in his voice.

“So what if I am?” Sanji replied, doing everything he could to make it sound unaggressive.

“Then I’d say a guy like that isn’t your type, _Mr. Prince_. You’d be better off barking up a different tree.”

“Is that so?” Sanji said, giving the swordsman a quick once-over. “Maybe I will.”

The irony was not lost on him when his gaze swept across Zoro’s brown skin and vibrant green hair—the man was certainly built like a tree…if trees had moss growing on them instead of leaves.

“Alright, let me get this straight,” the swordsman said, swallowing nearly half the bottle of sake in three large gulps. His pupils dilated as he caught the cook’s eye and leaned forward to hold his gaze. “You’ve been worried about what to say to me ever since you caught me kissing that guy, and you bribed me with sake to figure out if I was gay—not because you have a problem with it but because you’re curious, and that curiosity has less to do with my own attraction to men and more to do with _yours_ …If I’m not mistaken, I’ve just received a proposition.”

“Wha— _what?!_ I…I haven’t proposed anything!”

“It was implied, Cook. Enough with the beating around the bush. I’m assuming that you’ve never even looked at a man like that before, so why do you suddenly think you might be interested?”

“I…I…I don’t know for sure that I am, okay? I’ve just been having these dreams that got me thinking, but I have no idea what to do about it—and I _hate_ you, by the way.”

“What an eloquent way to ask a guy for a favor. Do you tell all the pretty girls that you hate them?” he asked sarcastically.

“If you were a pretty girl, I would actually give a shit about your feelings, bastard!”

“The whole point is that I’m _not_ a girl though, isn’t it?” Zoro asked with a smug grin.

“I’m not drunk enough for this shit. Forget I said anything—you’re an asshole.”

“Now hang on a minute. We _are_ nakama—I wouldn’t seriously turn you away if you asked for something, so I’ll help you out.”

“I’m not asking for anything, moss-head!”

“I know, but you’re obviously confused, and you came to me thinking that I could somehow clear it up. Do you want my help or not?”

“How are _you_ supposed to help?” Sanji asked, red-faced.

“I’ll show you. Come over here.”

The swordsman’s words were too suggestive for the embarrassed cook to form a proper response, but Zoro had already turned away from the blond and seated himself backwards on the bench with the table behind him. Sanji finished his second glass in one gulp and stood up, cautiously making his way to the other side of the room. He was glad to discover that he wasn’t nearly as drunk as he'd thought—perhaps he was finally developing a tolerance—and his steps were steady as he stopped in front of the swordsman.

Zoro reached out abruptly and grabbed the cook’s waist, dragging the surprised blond forwards until the front of his legs hit the bench, and he fell towards the swordsman. Sanji automatically sat down, placing his hands behind Zoro on the edge of the table to steady himself, which effectively seated him on his crewmate’s lap.

“What the hell—don’t do that so suddenly!” he complained, attempting to push himself off.

“Just trust me and sit still for a minute. I’m not gonna do anything weird.”

“And _this_ isn’t weird?!”

“Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it has to be weird, Cook.”

He smiled up at the flustered blond, loosening the grip on his waist. Sanji could easily slide off if he wanted to, since Zoro was only resting his hands gently on his hips, but there was something new in the swordsman’s eyes that held him in place. He wondered if it was lust and felt his face flush at the thought.

“What are you gonna do to me?” he asked quietly, which answered his own question when Zoro sucked in a sharp breath and reflexively squeezed Sanji’s thighs. It was definitely lust that drove the swordsman to slowly run his hands down the cook’s legs and grip him above the knees.

“Well, I _was_ going to kiss you and see if I could turn you on—then you’d know for sure if you had an interest in men—but I’m also open to suggestions,” he said huskily.

“That would only prove whether or not I have an interest in _you_ , marimo. How am I supposed to test for an attraction to men with your ugly mug?”

“Close your eyes,” Zoro suggested, sealing their lips in a kiss.

Sanji was an exceptional kisser, so he was surprised to discover that the swordsman could actually give him a run for his money. His lips were confusingly soft and hard at the same time, moving confidently against Sanji’s with undeniable skill. It took his breath away because it was just so… _passionate,_ which was not a word he would've usually associated with the stoic swordsman (except, perhaps, when it came to his swords themselves).

Sanji fell in sync immediately, losing himself in the feeling of Zoro’s strong hands at his hips, his warm mouth, and his eager tongue. There had been no preamble—no slow build-up to the moment of entry—he just plunged in like it was the last kiss he’d ever receive, and the cook was completely overwhelmed by it. He had never been kissed like this—not by any woman, even the most aggressive. Zoro seemed like he was putting everything he had into it and more.

Sanji’s face was burning under the swordsman’s fierce assault, his blush spreading as the kiss moved from his lips to his jaw, below his ear, and down the length of his throat. It was as if his body’s heat were following the path of Zoro’s lips, creating a dark trail of blood-flushed skin where his mouth had touched. The swordsman lifted his hands and begin methodically undoing the buttons of the cook's white dress-shirt without pausing in his task. Kisses were pressed against his collarbone, his shoulder, and his chest as arousal filled him. It was all-encompassing, and it answered the question he’d come here to figure out.

He was _definitely_ attracted to the green-haired bastard. They’d gone too far for the cook to even consider denying it later, but the sounds that he was unintentionally letting slip were embarrassing enough that he thought he’d have to at least try—no way could he ever look Zoro in the face again after coming undone so quickly at his touch. It was absolutely pathetic, so he would just have to make the swordsman come undone as well.

That thought gave him pause, because their interaction was so very different from anything he’d experienced with women, and he certainly didn’t know how to seduce a _man._ Maybe if the man were more gentle, and more like a woman, then he could—wait…no, he _hated_ men like that. Men were supposed to be rough and powerful with a strong, dominating presence that could reassure a lady in need of protection. Zoro kissed him with all the roughness, power, and strength that he showed to his enemies on the battlefield, and Sanji found himself hesitating—afraid that he wouldn’t be able to measure up because he’d never kissed a lady like that…but there was one thing that silenced his inhibitions in an instant.

He just couldn’t lose to that idiot-swordsman! Sanji had to show him that he could give it as good as he could take it instead of melting in his lap and letting the other man ravish him like a fucking virgin. The Staw Hat's cook had more pride than that.

“Fucker,” he murmured, piercing the swordsman with a determined glare. “You think you can just do all the work like you’re in charge?” 

“Well, you sound a little out of breath…wouldn’t want you to strain yourself trying to keep up,” Zoro told him with an infuriating smirk. His eyes panned to the pale curve of Sanji’s neck, and the smirk grew wider. “You have such a delicate body, after all.”

The cook growled angrily, his hand flying instinctively to the place where the swordsman was eyeing. The skin under his palm was warm and tingling, and he knew that it would inevitably turn into a love bite…from Zoro. _Fuck, how am I gonna explain_ that _when we’re in the middle of the ocean with no one on board but the crew?!_ he thought, annoyed and irritated with the green-haired man’s carelessness. Although, it was more likely that the bastard had done it on purpose. 

“I’ll kill you, you asshole! How the hell am I supposed to cover this up, huh?”

Zoro grinned mischievously and said, “Don’t.”

“People will ask questions! There’s only so many of us on this damn boat—Nami and Robin will know that it wasn’t either of them and then they’ll think I’m gay, too!”

“The world isn’t black and white—isn’t that what you said, Cook? None of our nakama would judge you for it. There’s nothing wrong with a little…experimentation.”

The word resonated in Sanji’s ear, his cheeks flushing at its suggestive nature. The slow drawl of Zoro’s deep voice hinted at something mysterious and sexy—it was full of promise and the implication that this “little experiment” wasn’t over. The cook’s heart was pounding a mile a minute, sending more blood to his flushed face and…other places. It was then that he noticed how hard he was in his pants, and panic shot through him at the realization that Zoro could probably feel it. He already had an erection, and the marimo had barely touched him! More than anything, that proved that Sanji was attracted to him, and it wasn’t a fleeting feeling.

He felt amazing...liberated...and _terrified._ He couldn’t believe that he actually wanted Zoro to touch him like this—to kiss him and…and…shit, he couldn’t let himself think about anything else for fear of causing a nosebleed. (How mortifying would _that_ be?) The swordsman had turned his world upside down in the span of minutes, and Sanji hated him for it. What was he supposed to do with this knowledge? Sure, his curiosity had been burning for days, begging him to face these feelings, but now that he had? _What now?_

Zoro was kissing him again, more slowly than before—almost lazily. His hands had released their grip on the cook’s knees, sliding back over his thighs, up his sides, and over the curve of his back. They settled in Sanji’s hair, tangling themselves in the blond locks, his fingers closing and opening with the gentleness of a flower in bloom. They tickled his scalp and sent shivers down his spine, causing goosebumps and waves of pleasure to spread across his oversensitive skin.

Now _this_ was the kind of kissing that he was used to, and his confidence surged with the familiar territory. He would make sure to get his revenge for Zoro’s earlier roughness when his heart wasn’t pounding in his ears and his brain wasn’t as muddled, but for now, he would take back the swordsman’s control and show him how a _real_ gentleman kissed.

Two minutes later, they were both panting from lack of air, so Sanji leaned back slightly and placed his hands on Zoro’s chest. The slow kissing had given him some time to think about his next move, which was obvious—his erection was still straining against his pants, throbbing insistently with the need to be touched, and he honestly didn’t think he could keep this up much longer. That didn’t necessarily mean that they had to do anything _other_ than kiss _,_ but the position they were in would soon become uncomfortable if Sanji didn’t come.

“So what’s the verdict, Cook?” Zoro asked him smugly.

“You’re an asshole.”

“We both knew that already.”

“You’re a horny asshole.”

“You can tell?” Zoro said with an amused grin.

Sanji _hadn’t_ noticed what the swordsman was implying, but now that he'd mentioned it, the hardness pressing against his own was suddenly his main focus. The cook’s face grew impossibly hotter at the realization that Zoro was in the same predicament…and he was _not_ mentally prepared to deal with that in any of the ways the swordsman might expect.

“I…I didn’t mean—don’t get any ideas, marimo!”

“Relax, curly-brow. Focus on yourself. Did you learn anything from this experience?”

“I learned that you still have the gall to underestimate me!”

“Eh?!”

“What was all that bullshit before about my supposedly ‘delicate body?’ As if you could ever hurt me, shitty-swordsman. I’m not some weak fucking drunk in an alleyway!”

“Are you trying to pick a fight or something? I was just teasing you like usual. There’s no need to bring some random fling that I had a week ago into it.”

“I refuse to fight you with goddamn erections. Congrats, you opened my eyes to the way of the gay. Now fuck off so I can deal with this,” he said easily, meaning to slide off the swordsman’s lap.

“Wait.”

Strong hands scrambled to catch his waist, holding him firmly in place again. Sanji growled and pushed at Zoro’s chest, shifting his hips to try and get his knees off the bench so he could slip away or at least get a kick in. He hadn’t considered the possibility that this “experiment” might get out of control, and what was worse, he couldn’t stop picturing that stranger from the alley and his coy smirk as he'd led Zoro away. Even while Sanji had been obsessing over the swordsman’s sexuality for the past week, he hadn’t put much thought into what the two men had actually been _doing_ that night—not in the specifics—but now he was thinking about it, and _he_ was in that guy’s place!

Had Zoro also kissed _him_ like this? Seduced him with his touch the way that Sanji was being swept away in the moment? He knew enough about sex to be able to speculate what might have happened between them, and the thought of it made his stomach roll unpleasantly. For a split second, he thought that he’d come to the wrong conclusion about his attraction—maybe kissing was just something that he usually associated with eroticism, so his body was reacting to Zoro like it normally would, and he wasn’t actually interested in sex with men outside of those curious dreams—but then he looked at Zoro’s face, saw that it was just as flushed as his own, and caught the unmistakable panic in the swordsman’s eyes as Sanji tried to reject his touch.

He stopped fighting and gave his nakama a hard look. “I’m not interested in being a fling, so you can let go of me now.”

Zoro dropped his hands immediately, repeating, “Cook, wait,” and Sanji paused at the open longing in those words. “You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not interested in that either.”

“Really? ‘Cuz you seemed pretty interested when you had an eager stranger pinned against a wall. I got what I came for, alright?” he said dismissively, but his body wouldn’t move from its place on Zoro’s lap—something in the swordsman’s eyes pinned him there just as effectively as his body could have.

“Let me clear something up first, and then you can leave if you want to.”

Sanji just nodded, his curiosity flaring up once more. What could have put that look of panic in the fearless Roronoa Zoro’s eyes? What was so important that he needed to stop the cook and make him listen, even if there had been some sort of misunderstanding?

“What you saw that time in the alleyway…that was…highly uncharacteristic of me. I sort of did it on a whim—it’s not something I’ve ever done before. Do you remember what you said about the island’s rule that women had to return home before dark?”

“Uh…probably that it was an affront to human nature and a cruel, unusual punishment for men and women alike? What does _that_ have to do with anything?”

“Well, that wasn’t all you said. You ranted about it for twenty minutes, complaining about what a travesty it was that you wouldn’t be able to have a precious lady’s company after sailing for so long on the ocean. Even though you just said that you’re not interesting in a fling, what you meant is that you aren’t interested in one with _me._ You fuck random girls all the time when we’re docked at new islands, and then it’s wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.”

“I prefer to say I love ‘em and leave ‘em, but that’s probably irrelevant since you seem to think that I’m some sort of man-whore. Just because I choose to indulge myself by releasing a little sexual tension when the opportunity arises, doesn’t mean that I’m always open for business. I’m a classy gentleman even if being a pirate prevents me from settling down and making an honest woman out of my _flings,_ so fuck you,” Sanji told him coldly, shoving himself off the man’s lap with finality. He was so angry that he almost _did_ want to start a fight—awkward boner or not.

“That’s not what I meant at all. I’m just trying to explain why I was at that bar, and why I bothered to leave it with that guy—whose name is Takashi, by the way.”

“How nice of you to remember,” he snapped, sneering down at the swordsman. Zoro hadn’t moved to stand in front of him; in fact, he seemed to have melded to the bench, his posture stiff and defeated. Something about it was unnatural—not like Zoro at all—and it confused the cook because even if he was pissed off, he couldn’t ignore such a weird reaction from his nakama. Something was clearly bothering him, but if it wasn’t the disappointment of not being able to get his dick wet then what was it?

“You make it look so easy,” Zoro muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “Finding bed-partners for you is like Luffy finding the nearest meat vendor. I’ve never understood how you do it—how _anyone_ does it...or why they’d even want to. Ever since the puberty fairy showed up in the middle of the night, I just took care of my own needs, and that was enough. That sort of thing never appealed to me much.”

“Are you about to say something crazy like you’re still a virgin, or you’re waiting for marriage?” Sanji asked him unsurely, thrown off by the seriousness in the swordsman’s tone.

“No, stupid. I’ve spent plenty of time doing stuff like that, but it was more for practice—like training—for if I ever had the desire to actually be with someone. It's never felt like…like it just did with you.”

Zoro met his eyes without hesitation, and the sincerity in them was clear. He had been just as affected by their kiss as the cook was. Clearly, Sanji wasn’t the only one who felt like his world had just been rocked, and that stunned him into silence.

“The reason I went to that bar was because I was annoyed by your little speech. What I said before, about me being gay, isn’t totally accurate. It’s true that I prefer men, but it used to be that I didn’t have those sorts of desires. I always thought it was weird, but Robin convinced me that it wasn’t unheard of to feel that way. She asked if I was asexual, but that didn’t quite fit. We talked about it for hours.”

“With Robin-chan? Lucky bastard…so what conclusion did you and the lovely lady come to?” Sanji asked, genuinely baffled at the notion of a man his age who _didn’t_ think about sex most the time.

He shrugged and looked off to the side, cheeks reddening slightly. “She called it demisexual.”

Ah. That made sense with what Zoro had described about himself. Demisexuals didn’t experience sexual attraction unless they formed a strong emotional connection with someone. Sanji had once met a woman who had politely turned him down with that exact explanation. He felt his heart-rate pick up again as the implication of the swordsman’s admission crashed into him. Zoro was his nakama—they had sailed together for months, fought together and shared details about one another’s life with the whole crew. Even if they had difficulties getting along on a regular basis, they were undoubtedly comrades who had formed a bond of trust.

Zoro had been a loner before he’d joined the Straw Hats, so it made sense that he’d never become very close with the bounty hunters or islanders that he’d met during his travels—except for the two men, Johnny and Yosaku. Sanji briefly wondered if _they_ had been the first to “experiment” with the swordsman, but he shoved the thought away immediately. Thinking about Zoro having sex with anyone else left a bad taste in his mouth, but he wouldn’t admit that it was  _jealousy_ he was feeling—that would be ridiculous.

“For the record, I don’t think that’s weird or anything. You told me that people’s preferences were a lot like food, so it makes sense if something tastes better to you when it’s made with love,” Sanji reasoned.

“Of course _you’d_ use a dirty food analogy, pervert-cook,” Zoro scoffed, grinning slightly in amusement.

“Wha—it wasn’t supposed to be an innuendo! And you call _me_ a pervert.”

“You’re a hopeless pervert, and you know it. My point is that I have no intention of using you for a quick fuck, and I didn’t have a ‘fling’ with Takashi either. I just said that because it’s what you were assuming, but you seemed pissed about it, so I thought I’d clear it up.”

“Wait, you _didn’t_ have sex with him? Then what the hell were you doing until four in the afternoon the next day?” Sanji asked disbelievingly.

Zoro let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture. “Honestly, I only went looking for someone like him because I knew you wouldn’t be getting any that night, and I thought it would be a nice change to be the one having fun for once. He seemed nice enough, so I was gonna give it a go, but then you showed up and totally killed the mood.”

“Sorry, man—didn’t mean to cock-block you.”

“It’s fine. It was for the best. I mentioned you while we were drinking at the bar, and then we went back to his place after we saw you, but he was…less than complimentary when your name got brought up again.”

“He said I was hot, though—oh, and that fucker also said I looked gay! What the hell was that all about?!” Sanji raged, remembering his previous anger at the comment.

“Are you seriously surprised? You were wearing a hot-pink dress shirt with the first five buttons undone, a decorative vest, and the tightest pants I’ve ever seen on a man. Trust me, I noticed.”

“Hey, I looked fucking good.”

“Well, he thought you were giving off mixed signals and accused you of knowing how I felt. He said that there was no way you hadn’t noticed my interest since we’ve been living on the ship for so long, and it probably gave you an ego boost to flaunt yourself in front of me. I blame those fucking pants—they’re like a goddamn second skin.”

“What the hell? Was he just being a dick because I’m straight? Is there even such thing as reverse homophobia? Fuck that guy!”

“That’s what I said—not literally. I left pretty soon after we ran into you and found a different bar to drink at.”

“There was only one bar in that town, dumbass. I’m assuming you crashed at a cheap motel, slept all morning, and then spent hours trying to find your way back to the ship?” he guessed. Zoro said nothing, which confirmed the cook’s suspicion—the marimo’s horrible sense of direction never failed to get him ass-backwards lost. “What I’ve gathered from this is that you’ve been attracted to me for a while now.” Again, Zoro said nothing and continued to shift awkwardly in his seat. That nervous reaction was almost cute— _cute!_

“I never would have said anything about it,” he muttered finally. “You’re not exactly shy about your ridiculous love of women, but then you invited me for a drink, and _this_ happened.”

“Who would’ve thought it,” Sanji said wryly, digging out another cigarette so he could light up and think about what to say next. He still wasn’t over his surprise at the revelation that the swordsman had these feelings for him, but one thing was clear…they had just discovered an interesting opportunity for the both of them to explore. It was ironic that the two people on the crew who usually couldn’t agree to save their lives were perfectly suited in such an intimate capacity. “Alright, I can work with this,” he declared, blowing out a long cloud of smoke.

Zoro just looked at him in confusion and maybe a little hope. “What are you saying, Cook?”

“I’m saying that this could actually work. _I_ _'ve_  never had sex with a man but you have, and _you've_  never experienced lovemaking with the sort of emotion that I can bring to the table. We’re each lacking what the other has. Simple as that.”

“Simple?! What is this, a business proposition? You’re insane! How can you just accept this so easily? It’s crazy—we can barely eat at the dinner table without getting on each other’s nerves and starting a brawl in the middle of the kitchen, but you think we can just…just…”

“Fuck each other like rabbits? Why not? It might be a fun addition to our daily squabbles because then they can end in a much more enjoyable fashion,” Sanji explained thoughtfully. He felt a smile pulling at his lips and decided to let it show. The idea was starting to excite him, which didn’t exactly help with the situation in his pants. His arousal had lessened during their discussion, but now it was filling him again with the anticipation of many, many more interactions like the one they’d had tonight.

Oh, how the tables could turn. Blackleg Sanji, the Don Juan of the East Blue, an insufferable ladies man and a self-proclaimed gentleman, was in love with the shitty green-haired swordsman…wait...

 _Wait—what the fuck am I thinking? I’m not…I couldn’t_ actually _be…not with that stupid brute!_

Except regardless of how much he bitched, complained, and tossed insults at the swordsman, he didn’t hate Zoro. He respected him—a lot—and although he would never admit it, the cook didn’t think Zoro was as lazy or dumb as people assumed. He knew how to work hard, and he took his job seriously both as a swordsman and as Luffy’s first mate. He could be kind and caring—even gentle at times, like with children or their adorable reindeer doctor. He was clever even if he wasn’t book-smart like Robin, and despite his stoicism, he knew how to have a good time and goof off with their less mature nakama.

In fact, despite all his flaws, Sanji had to admit that Roronoa Zoro was an amazing person who the cook would be lucky to have around for as long as Zoro wanted to be there. They would continue sailing together as the Straw Hat’s cook and swordsman, find the All Blue, and take down Dracule Mihawk. Sanji would cook in his kitchen, and Zoro would train in the crow’s nest…maybe they would even do those things together, although the idea of Zoro lumbering around with a paring knife was laughable. Still, Sanji could teach him—he could probably teach him _a lot_ of things…and now his thoughts were drifting back into the erotic, reminding him of his predicament. As quickly as he could, he finished his cigarette and dropped the butt in an ashtray, turning to face the swordsman again.

“Get up.”

“Huh? What—?”

“Just get up, marimo. Don’t argue with me right now,” Sanji repeated huskily, his voice deepening with lust. Zoro just stared at him, his mouth going wide as the cook started unhooking his belt buckle to yank the strip of leather from his belt loops. He looked like he was in some sort of daze, clearly too shocked by Sanji’s abrupt change in attitude to respond appropriately. “Hurry up, idiot-swordsman. A man shouldn’t repress his own release—it isn’t healthy,” he reasoned while popping open the button at his fly and undoing the zipper.

Zoro’s eyes panned to the site of his arousal and swallowed a surprised gasp. It occurred to the blond that his pants really were tight—he doubted there was much left to the imagination with his cock straining against the thin fabric like this...not that Zoro was complaining. In fact, it was almost comical to see how fixated he was on Sanji’s body and its movements. If this were a cartoon, he would've been salivating at the mouth—it was actually quite flattering because the cook was used to women concealing their appreciation and playing coy, but Zoro looked at him like he’d just been told he was the world’s greatest swordsman, and the prize for gaining that title also included the best sex of his life.  

“What…what do you want me to do?” Zoro asked unsurely, having finally gotten up from the bench.

“Do you need a road map? Take our clothes off!”

“Jeez, I’m just trying to be considerate. I can’t read your mind, Cook,” he grumbled, stepping purposefully up to the blond. He pulled Sanji’s shirt off his shoulders in one motion (thankfully, he’d already undone the buttons), and then moved to remove his own. Inch by inch, beautiful bronze skin was revealed as the perfectly defined muscles in his abdomen flexed. Then his chest with the large, diagonal scar marring its smoothness came into view like a slow-motion picture. He had plenty of other scars that felt rough under the cook’s eager fingers—he didn’t even wait for the swordsman to get the shirt completely over his head before touching him.

His body felt as strong as it looked. Sanji marveled at the power he knew was confined under that tanned skin and gave in to his desire to get better acquainted with it. He dropped a kiss where the scar from Mihawk’s blade met Zoro’s collarbone before transferring his attention to undressing the swordsman. His haramaki came off, exposing more of his toned stomach as well as the baggy, black pants, which pooled where they gathered around his combat boots. While Zoro paused to kick them off, the cook divested himself of his own pants and shoes in record time.

Sanji’s entire body was shaking with excitement. He almost snapped at the other man to hurry up when Zoro slowly bent down to disentangle the black fabric from his ankles. Finally, it was his turn to break the swordsman's immeasurable calm and teach him exactly why he was called the love-cook.

“Sit over there,” Sanji demanded, gesturing at the long length of couch that ran along the wall of the galley. It was soft and cushioned with enough width for them to sprawl lengthwise across it, which would work perfectly for the position he had in mind. “Come on, show some hustle, Zoro!”

The swordsman shot him an irritated glare but did as he was told, taking a seat in nothing but his boxers. Sanji eyed them pointedly and shook his head in silent disapproval, dragging an eye roll out of the green-haired man, who shrugged uncaringly and stripped the remaining fabric from his body without shame.

His cock looked just about as done with waiting as Sanji’s felt, but the cook was curious enough to slow his approach in order to take a minute to appreciate the size and obvious eagerness of his nakama’s arousal. It was strange, of course, to be perusing another man’s dick like it was a particularly interesting work of art in a museum, but it was also exciting and maybe a little nerve-wracking.

After all, they hadn’t discussed the possibility of it going _inside_ him, though Sanji knew that it would fit after some preparation. The idea of opening himself up to the swordsman in that way was too scary to consider at the moment, so he pushed it aside and moved to the edge of the bench where Zoro was waiting patiently to see what he would do.

“Lie down,” he instructed, causing the other man to scoff.

“Yes, _Sir,”_ he replied, dropping back against the cushions. Although he was saying it mockingly, something primal reared up inside the cook in response to the title, and he had to swallow a lustful groan. Even as a joke, hearing Zoro call him ‘Sir’ did funny things to the blond’s heart. It was a _huge_ turn on, and it played into Sanji’s fantasy of taking control back from the swordsman after their earlier kissing session.

He was on him in a flash, boxers disappearing somewhere behind him as he practically tore them off to straddle Zoro’s waist and press their naked bodies together. They both gasped at the feeling, Sanji curling over him as his hands thumped against the cushions on either side of the marimo’s head. He felt the warm length of the swordsman’s cock align with his own and had to consciously slow his breathing because it just felt _so damn good_ moving against his flushed skin.

Zoro didn’t complain as the moment dragged. He let the cook explore the new sensation while slowly running his hands over his pale skin—everywhere he could reach. It was almost as if he were trying to sooth Sanji as he worked to calm down, reclaiming his focus and shifting it to their most desperate place. _It’ll be just like when I do it to myself,_ he thought, and then he didn’t think at all as he wrapped his long, talented fingers around both of their erections. Zoro moaned at the welcomed contact, letting his head drop back against the seat, his mouth wide and breathing erratic.

“C-cook. Fuck— _do_ something,” he said insistently. The request sounded more like it was coming from a man being tortured than one being pleasured, but when Sanji began to move his hand in a gentle stroking motion from base to tip, the swordsman’s stuttered breathing and short gasps made his enjoyment clear. It didn’t take long for the cook to figure out a rhythm as he pumped their cocks in unison, and soon he was able to add the motion of his hips as well. He’d chosen to straddle Zoro because he knew that his flexibility would come in handy in the limited space they had, but he hadn’t realized how natural it would feel, rolling his hips against the swordsman’s to create a blessed friction.

Hands grappled to catch hold of Sanji’s body as it shifted above him, but it seemed like Zoro simply couldn’t decide which places he wanted to touch. Fingers dug into his shoulder blades, trailed along his spine, and gripped the indents at his hips. Once, they even slid around his waist to hesitantly squeeze the globes of his ass before settling again at his waist. Sanji let him do whatever he wanted—hell, if Zoro had shoved a finger in there without warning, he probably wouldn’t have had the willpower to complain right now. The cook was on cloud nine—lost in a blissful fog of lust and desperate wanting like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

It was the sight of Zoro underneath him that made it so much hotter—the unshakable swordsman, who never flinched even in the worst situations, was panting and trembling because of Sanji’s hands. He dove down to capture the other man’s mouth, laying his full weight on him because he knew that Zoro was strong enough and wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest. They kissed even more fiercely than before, tongues battling for dominance and teeth nipping at sensitive skin. Someone accidentally bit a little too hard, and Sanji could taste the blood mixing in with the flavours of sake, steel, and something else that was indescribable because it was simply the taste of Zoro. If he had tried to imagine what it was like to kiss the swordsman, he would have expected exactly this.

He didn’t feel any pain, only pleasure, so he pulled back and pressed one more chaste kiss on the swordsman’s lips as an apology for drawing blood. Zoro let out a small sound of frustration when the kiss ended, which was swallowed by his moan a second later when Sanji began stroking them faster, smearing pre-come along their lengths and squeezing them together with just the right amount of pressure. It was easier than he expected—almost too easy—although, he shouldn’t have been surprised considering how much practice a typical nineteen-year-old would have with this sort of thing. Transferring those skills to another man was much easier than it had been to learn how to pleasure a woman—now _that_ was a seriously complicated labyrinth of delicate folds and sensitive parts. He _still_ ran into challenges at times since every lady had their own preference, so the learning was never really over.

“Shit,” Zoro whispered suddenly, unconsciously flexing his grip on the cook's hips. “I don’t…I don’t think I can do this all the time. How the hell do people even handle this?—I’ll explode,” he rambled breathlessly.

“That’s sort of the point, marimo-chan.”

“F-fuck you, curly-brow!”

“Not tonight. I doubt I’m gonna last much longer,” Sanji joked, latching onto a spot below Zoro’s jaw to leave a matching love bite of his own. The swordsman had become completely unraveled and seemed beyond rational thought as the cook licked and sucked along the curve of his neck. He arched his spine, head thrown as far back as the couch seat would allow, and just opened himself up for the cook to do whatever he pleased. The unspoken trust between them was evident by the fact that neither man had even bothered to repress their body’s reactions to the other. Whether it was an embarrassing moan or a string of colorful swear words, both pirates had dropped all pretense and facades—they were totally naked in more ways than one. Sanji found himself thinking that Zoro was beautiful, especially with his face all flushed and sweaty from the heat they were creating together, and he suddenly knew that he loved every inch of this man. In that moment, he didn’t even flinch at the prospect that he might be in love with his male crewmate—it seemed pointless to try and put a label on something so pure.

He was reaching his limit now, moaning in Zoro’s ear as his orgasm slowly approached. It would be no good to finish early and leave the swordsman hanging while he came down from his post-orgasm high, so Sanji tried his best to hold on for as long as he could. Luckily, Zoro was no better off than he was, and his quiet ramblings were increasing in volume as he neared his own peak. Finally, the swordsman let out one broken word, and the cook was done.

“ _Sanji!_ ”

His name. His _actual_ name. He didn’t think Zoro had _ever_ called him that in all the time they’d sailed together, and he doubted that the man had used it in private when speaking to others. The sound of it rolling off the swordsman’s tongue completely shattered Sanji’s pathetic control, and suddenly he was shouting something unintelligible, muffling the word, prayer, curse, or whatever it was against the slick skin of Zoro’s shoulder. He instinctively bit down as it crashed into him, and the swordsman twitched and hissed at the sudden sting. Another moan, and Zoro was following right behind him, shooting thick streams of warm come between their torsos and catching the cook in a tight embrace as intense pleasure shook them both to the core.

Sanji might have blacked out for a moment then because the next thing he knew, he was lying comfortably on top of the swordsman, having stretched out his legs to tangle them with the marimo’s, and Zoro was idly playing with his hair while they waited for their racing heartbeats to subside. His entire body felt like pudding, and his mind was so content that he didn’t even care if there was a puddle of sticky wetness smeared across their stomachs and chests. In fact, he’d always rather liked coming on a woman’s chest (only if she agreed to it, of course), so he spent the next few minutes in blissful remembrance of the moment when he’d spilled himself all over the swordsman’s front. A small chuckle escaped while he was lost in his thoughts, prompting Zoro to shift their weight and look at him questioningly.           

 “Oh, um…is it fucked up that I’m wondering how Mihawk would feel if he knew that I just blew a hot load all over the scar he left you?”

Zoro’s face blanched for three full seconds before he brought a hand up to wipe the expression away. It was replaced by something halfway between bemusement and hysteria. “Yes, Sanji, that is completely fucked up—only you could come up with such a perverse speculation. I’ll be sure to _never_ fucking tell him that the next time he accepts my challenge.”

The cook propped himself up on his elbows, admiring the mess they’d made for a brief moment before beaming at the swordsman’s exasperated face. “How nice of you to remember _my_ name, by the way,” he said with a cocky grin. “It’s a nice change from the endless list of stupid nicknames you come up with.”

Zoro blushed and shoved at the other man’s shoulders to get the cook to let him sit up, muttering, “Whatever. You probably just get off hearing it called out or something perverted like that. It’s not like I’m gonna start calling you something different because of this thing we have—I just don’t think it would be very sexy to call you dartboard-brow in the middle of sex,” he explained dismissively.

“Is that something that concerns you—being sexy for me, marimo?” he cooed, knowing that it would piss Zoro off to be accused of trying to impress him.

“I don’t need your damn approval,” he replied instantly, crossing his arms in an adorably childish pout. Sanji kissed the expression away, flustering the swordsman with his insatiable desire. “Will you give it a rest? Don’t just  _do_ that all the time without warning.”

“But the surprise is what makes it fun,” the blond argued, grinning again when Zoro made an even more aggressive pout.

“Have fun by yourself, Cook. I’m gonna get cleaned up and sleep for the next nine hours.”

“Hey, hey, wait!” Sanji called, dragging the swordsman back to the couch before he could stand. “Talk to me for a minute. This was a _huge_ development in our relationship, so I want to clear some things up.”

“Fine, whatever. Make it fast before this shit dries in all my nooks and crannies.”

“So…you like me, right?”

“Wow, no lead-in at all—just straight to the heavy shit, huh?”

“Don’t lie to me, marimo. I’ll know.”

“Yeah, I like you. Happy?”

“So you’d be interested in doing something like this again?”

“…Yes.”

“Would it be too greedy of me to suggest that I join you in the shower? I’ve never done anal before, so I could use a…demonstration?”

“I can’t tell if you want to fuck me or be fucked, Cook. Talk straight.”

“I don’t know…I mean, I guess I’d like to try topping you. What do you prefer?”

Zoro shrugged, glancing down at his naked body in annoyance. “Do we really have to talk about this before I put my pants on? We’re going to have to burn those cushions, by the way—or at least surround this section with caution tape.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Fine. I’ve never bottomed before, but I know how to properly prepare someone. If you really don’t want to then I don’t mind trying it…It’s fine if it’s you,” he admitted, looking off to the side shyly. “I mean, there’s a first time for everything, right?” he added, turning back with a slightly more confident gleam in his eyes.

Sanji felt his heart skip, surprised by the sweet sentiment as well as Zoro’s effort to appease him even if he was uncomfortable. He suddenly wished that he had the endurance to push the swordsman back down and repeat everything they’d just done, but his lust-fueled mind had already begun to return to reality, so he was starting to feel gross and in desperate need of a shower.

“Tell you what. We’ll get cleaned up and go to bed, but then tomorrow we’re gonna spar—winner chooses top or bottom.”

Zoro flashed him a slow, sexy grin that reignited the fire of arousal inside Sanji’s belly. “You have my attention, Cook...Don’t forget to stretch.”

* * *

The cook and the swordsman didn’t end up showering together, after all, because once they left the galley, Robin approached them from the shadows with a knowing smile in place. She had already drawn them a steam-filled bath… 

 

“So _that’s_ why I thought I smelled flowers when I came,” Sanji realized, mortified at the thought of his lovely Robin-chan spying on something so indecent.

Zoro just shook his head and slipped farther under the sweetly-scented water. “Damn sneaky voyeur…”

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who read this fic! I really hope you liked it. :) I wrote a lot of it late at night, so let me know how you think it turned out in the comments. And as always, please enjoy my other Zosan fics! <3


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